


Of Ravens & Lions

by Deathpetal



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Alliance vs Horde, Azeroth, Child Death, Epic Love, F/M, For the Alliance!, For the Horde!, Not Beta Read, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Female Character, Pre-World of Warcraft: Battle for Azeroth, Slow Romance, Slow To Update, Spies & Secret Agents, Stormwind, Strong Female Characters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-27
Updated: 2020-04-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 02:16:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21585994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deathpetal/pseuds/Deathpetal
Summary: He embodies the Light, she dwells in the shadows. All that unites them, a promise; When the lion seeks the shadows, the raven will welcome him into the night. What will happen when their lives collide?Anduin Wrynn has always advocated for peace. Until one day he chose war. It’s been ten years since that war began and Anduin has a choice to make again. His choice lands him in the Hall of Shadows, seeking the Shadowblade, Valerya Venomweaver. He knew her a lifetime ago, but she is not the rogue she used to be. As she leads the Uncrowned in the aftermath of the war, thriving in the darkness and flowering in the night, there is no secret that she does not know, no whisper she does not hear. She might even tell you about it ... for the right price.This fic recognises everything that happened in the game up until the end of Legion (up to but not including the BFA prepatch). It updates very slowly!
Relationships: Anduin Wrynn/Original Character(s), Anduin Wrynn/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	1. Prologue

Ten years have passed since the war began. Five years since it ended right on the steps of Stormwind Keep. Five years of Sylvanas’ reign over the whole of Azeroth, but she does not rule all. For we have no king. We have no queen. We kneel before no throne. We recognize no crown. We have no allegiances we do not profit from. Five years we fought in their war, for no-one could stay out of the fight. We fought their war, their way, but their way was not ours to adopt. They, **we** were all allies in the effort to save Azeroth from Sargeras’ claws. But their alliances never last. Azeroth was announced out of the Legion’s reach, but it had yet to be claimed by someone; be it the Horde or the Alliance, and they would not stop until they claimed it all.

It started as all wars do. Each side collected their allies and no favor owned was left unexploited. They amassed their armies and made their plans; the Boy-King and the Banshee Queen. A war meant to end them all. A war that would not end until one side was victorious. Alliance against Horde. No compromises. It never is as simple as that. Both sides’ armies were splintered, tired of fighting. They had just gotten out of a tenuous war. But bloods were boiling and tempers flaring and long nurtured grudges were hard to let go. So the fourth war begun. The last war, the final war. That is what they said, what they wanted. The Alliance attacked, the Horde attacked. Not many know who made the first move, not even their generals. It was not about who attacked first, for this was a war for the wounds of the past left unhealed and festering.

Both sides attacked, both suffered losses, both basked in the glory of their wins. In the end only one side won. In the end it didn’t even matter who had the better plan, the more allies, the better armor, the stronger weapons. One side’s ties were stronger, the other found itself falling apart under the fresh leadership. It was simple really. The splinters were already there, fracturing apart, even before the young king was crowned. It started with the pandaren. They had no problem fighting against each other as part of either Alliance or Horde, but they drew the line at fighting for a cause they believed unworthy. They could not feel the wounds inflicted long before they emerged from the mists, nor could they understand them. They saw no honor in the fight, so they chose to be left out of it. They retreated to Pandaria and erected back the mists. To this day no-one has been able to reach the shores of Pandaria, not even the crews that made the trips from the very beginning of its discovery. The few monks that stayed behind were lost without their grandmasters to guide them on the path of the monk and soon were left out of the fight all together. The dwindling vestiges of what was left of them gathered at a temple meditating to connect to the spirits of Pandaria, with little success.

More factions wanted to follow the Pandaren, but it was not possible to stay out of the war and still live in Azeroth, so they reluctantly chose a side. But the battles were hard and long and the losses suffered were too high to be ignored or validated by a far unforeseeable future victory of the war. The Troll were the next to splinter from the Horde. The Troll tribes were finally reunited under the banner of the Horde. Darkspear, Zandalari, Gurubashi, Amani. The whole of the Troll Empire was once again unified, yet the Loa had other plans for the recently risen empire. They sensed the whispers of an old god, reawakened in the Silithid sands. They had to choose who to fight for and the uneasy compromise reached would not be one Sylvanas would soon forget. Only a token force was left to fight for the Horde, while the might of the Troll was directed by the Loa on a different path. Few understand how the Troll were spared the Banshee’s wrath, even less comprehend why. The Troll are mighty, even more so when they are united. Eventually, the Loa’s task was completed and the Troll had allied themselves with the Horde before the end of the war. Some may even say that the Loa saved the Troll from the most brutal of the battles. Some may even believe that.

In her need of new forces to fill the shortage the Troll left, Sylvanas eagerly called upon the Mag’har Orc of Draenor to fight at her side. The Orc were happy to fight at the side of their brethren, for war was in their nature. But Orc viewed war as something noble, honorable, sacred. They had rituals and traditions that they were not going to forget for a second time, especially not with Gul’dan’s betrayal of their ways so fresh in their memories. They could not see eye to eye with her strategies and methods. Soon their alliance fell through and when they crossed the Dark Portal for the last time they took half of Sylvanas’ original orc army with them. They had reminded her Orc of the old ways, their noble heritage. Only those that had to see the Alliance crashed or felt they had nothing to find on Draenor and everything to leave behind stayed in Azeroth with Saurfang. Those left behind had also been reminded of the old ways and under Saurfang’s command they were not always eager on following the warchief’s command.

The Horde’s ranks seemed to be in disarray and the Alliance were gaining victories, but not for long. The Speaker had warned both Alliance and Horde about the damage their war would bring upon Azeroth. He advocated strongly in favor of healing the planet. He may be the Speaker, but he still was the former King of Ironforge. The Dwarves were not as keen to disregard his warnings as their allies were. Nor were the Gnomes, who had long found refuge in his Ironforge. But King Varian had been there, when King Magni was encased in stone. They survived the attack on the Broken Shore, only because of his sacrifice. The dwarven council met and along with the gnomes they decided to send half their joined forces to aid the Speaker. The other half of their forces stayed behind. only half-heartedly supporting the war, more out of obligation to their oath to the King rather than a desire to fight the Horde.

Dwarves weren’t the only ones unwilling to fight in the war. When the Mag’har made their final trip through the Dark Portal to Draenor it was decided that the portal would be closed finitely. Yrel led her Draenei to Azeroth in hopes that with the help of Prophet Velen’s people they would once again inhabit Argus. A dream she shared with the majority of the Draenei. Thusly the Draenei began the rehabilitation of Argus with the help of the Illidari, who were more concerned with eradicating the last vestiges of the Legion than fighting a war for those who had scorned them until they were needed. Prophet Velen still supported King Anduin and helped with the few of his people that decided Azeroth was their home too. But who could fault the exiled from grasping the chance to return to their homeworld? Eventually, even the Prophet joined his people in their homeland.

Even with the fragmentation in both camps, the war was evenly fought, with both sides suffering wins and losses. However a war can only have one victor. The victor emerged from the embers of Teldrassil. It started with the greatest and bloodier naval battle in Azeroth’s history. All of the Alliance’s forces were gathered around the shores of Teldrassil to protect it from the Horde armada. The warships clashed and fought for weeks before the Horde broke through the shield that were the Alliance fleet and got on the shores of the island of the World Tree. There the Darnassian sentinels fought viciously to protect their home with the aid of the Alliance. The battle kept going on. It was bloody and ruthless and long, too long. It lasted for months on the dark shores of Teldrassil. The warchief could see no advantageous outcome after an even longer fight that seemed to have no end, but she would not concede either, not after such a long and brutal battle. The battle had cost her too much, so much so that it was unacceptable that the Alliance would have anything but more losses. She saw only one way for the Alliance to have lost even more than her own forces. She burned the tree. She burned it down to ashes and all that was left behind were the smoldering embers of an ancient tree that was no more. As the flames swallowed and devoured the tree, the night elves lost their home and the Alliance any chance at winning the war.

All the elves were deeply struck by the callous destruction of Teldrassil. With the world tree reduced to ashes, all the elves found themselves with something uniting them despite their differences. Kaldorei, Quel’dorei, Sin’dorei, Shal’dorei, even the Ren’dorei. They had all been devastated. They had all lost something sacred. They had all been wounded. They had all befallen in the perilous pits of despair. They all shared in that pain. It had become part of their heritage. They all saw it reflected in the smoldering embers of Teldrassil as it scattered in the wind. Isle of Quel’Danas, Mount Hyjal, Suramar. The last remaining strongholds of the elves. All shrouded by an impenetrable shield, not unlike Suramar was once before. No-one gets in without the elves’ approval. Travel strictly restricted through portals. As the elves left the war, the Alliance lost any chance of winning. But the High King would not compromise until the Banshee was defeated.

Eventually, their war ended, as all wars do. The Banshee Queen sat victorious upon the Stormwind throne, while the former king fled in exile. The banshee said she’d give him a gift for his father’s sake; the end of his line in exchange for his life, the choice would forever be his. She knew Anduin would always choose peace. But, there are rumors in the shadows. Tendrils of a whisper as tender as an infant’s breath. And therein lies the sound, beating faint and forgotten, yet no more silent. The drums of war will thunder once again.


	2. Seeking the Shadows

Any day that ends in me lying in my office, waiting to be healed is a long day. And we were hours from night’s shroud still. It was going to be a long day indeed. Mathias Shaw was applying bandages to my wound, pointedly ignoring the fel green smoke tendrils wafting from it. He used to think of us as the lowest of the low, greedy scoundrels with gold as our guide. Lawless, vicious, beyond any semblance of redemption. Which, to be honest, we kind of are. Profit makes wonders in motivating us, though profit does not always come in gold. However he tentatively came to realise a simple truth; a spy is a spy, whomever they serve. Call them rogues, outlaws, mercenaries, agents. Spies all the same, doing the hard tasks, the dirty tasks. The tasks too unworthy of the noble knights, too dark for the holy Light-wielders. In the end we are all rogues, dwelling in the shadows. Now, he has become one of my most trusted, a difficult position to fill considering the nature of the Uncrowned.

And here we are. My whole lower right torso painted with the gouges left by a saber’s fel poisoned paws, Mathias applying bandages on it. I refused to visit a healer. The whole of Stormwind was busy with news of the undead female that tried to sneak into Franci’s estate, only to be chased away by her saber. I cannot fault them for mistaking me for an undead. The Shadowblade’s Battlegear will make anyone look like one, but there was a reason I chose that specific look for the task. With the guard looking for an undead female, I can easily pass by them in full light without risking being questioned. Well, not for Franci’s break in at least. Though I have to wonder, will they even deem it worthy to waste their time investigating a crime committed against a human? While Saurfang was in town maybe, for he is just, but now that the Banshee gave him lordship over Orgrimmar for his service? Perhaps. _If_ they knew a human was behind the break in they might investigate. But no-one would prosecute an undead for a human, unless Sylvanas herself commanded it so. She never has.

“You are our Shadowblade.”, sighed Mathias displeased.

“I know.”

“The leader of the Shadow Council.”

“I am aware of my position, Mathias. Speak plainly, I have no mood for games.”

“Why not let an initiate do it? It was only 20 gold pieces. You certainly have no such need!”

“Tell me, how many initiates have you seen walk these halls these past few years? Tell me, how many highly skilled champions are still willing to follow a human on such boring, unprofitable quests? You walk the shadows of my halls Mathias, you had better start listening to their whispers.”

“No-one trusts Nogg...”

“Come on in”, I abruptly interrupted Mathias. Someone triggered my wards and he was speaking words that should not be heard. Yet, he was right, no-one trusted Noggerfogger and Garona had no such ambitions. He forgot something much simpler, though. She may have no desire to lead now, but she could if she wanted to. In these times, where being human is something to be ashamed of, it was enough of a threat. Even if we forget that there was always the chance that Voss would return.

“Shadowblade, there is a man carrying Lord Jorach’s badge at Red’s. Red said to let you know immediately, the lion has sought the shadows.”

I wasn't expecting that. I was so surprised that I sat up, momentarily forgetting about my wounds until they screamed their protests. This was our chance! The Uncrowned had been idle for far too long. The lion’s coming could create some very interesting opportunities to rectify that. Conflict was always good for business.

”Bring him in. And Kelsey? If I catch anyone sneaking about, you will be sharing their fate as well.”

Kelsey nodded, her pink banks bobbing along with the movement. As soon as she was out of earshot, I let Mathias know that I knew he initially sided with me to repay his life debt. I told him to consider the debt paid, and that following my meeting, he’d have to choose where his allegiances lied. He was confused, for he didn’t know about Jorach’s promise, but everything would soon be cleared.

It wasn’t long before Kelsey walked in my office followed by our guest. She let him in and then promptly disappeared. He looked good, after all these years. He was tall and with broad shoulders, his green-greyish cloak hiding most of his face, leaving visible only a line of the stubble on his jaw. His blue eyes, once shining bright, were now hidden, dim in the hood’s shadow. At that moment, standing proud in the Hall of Shadows, concealed in a common cloak, Anduin Wrynn looked more like the High King he was meant to be, than he did on his very own coronation day. What a shame that he possessed no crown nor a people to rule over.

“What is it you seek?”

“The Shadows”, he replied confidently. “Where is Jorach, Valerya?”

“Sadly, he is not available. Not now, nor ever again. Luckily for you, the deal was that the Shadowblade would welcome you, not him.”

“So which one of you two is the Shadowblade?”, he asked while drawing his hood back and relaxing his posture. It was obvious he considered himself among friends, but he would not find that in my company, nor Mathias’, for the time being.

“What is it you seek the shadows for, Anduin? You’ve already built a new life for yourself.”

I could see his surprise at my words. What did he expect though? A warm welcome for the king that doomed us? Maybe gratitude for plunging us into a war wrought in personal agentas? Well, now that I think about it, I should thank him for that. It was really good for our business! I hope his surprise wasn’t about my spies reports on his life. Why would he come seeking my help, if he doubted I could produce results? He was Anduin, son of Wryn, wielder of Shalamane and the last High King of the Alliance. Was it really so surprising that I would have spies on him?

“So you know! Then you should also know that my daughter was abducted.”

I wasn't aware, but I wasn't going to tell him that! Sanguinar really was pushing it this time! Yet the fact remained that Anduin was playing right into Sylvanas' plan and was desperate enough to come to me. It was time, it seems, for the Uncrowned to rise!


End file.
